


Upside Down Flowers

by jennajuicebox



Series: In Shadow [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Character Death, F/F, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Gore, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-08 10:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennajuicebox/pseuds/jennajuicebox
Summary: "My hand reaches out and just as I catch the first snowflake of winter.More begin to fall, fat flakes landing on my shoulders, in my eyelashes. Nearby a little girl squeals in delight as she twirls, holding out her arms so she can catch the flakes, her lemon colored coat a stark contrast to the miserly sky. I reach out and touch a snowflake that has landed on my palm, it smears gray against my skin. It isn’t snow at all.It’s ash."In Panem AU. Everlark. Taken from war torn twelve Katniss and Peeta struggle to find their way back to the ones they love.





	1. Flowers and other gentle things

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic is so special to me. I am really excited to finally be writing it! This fic is loosely based on the film How I live Now. There are similarites but won't be a direct copy of the movie/book. I don't own any rights to either How I Live Now or Hunger Games, they simply had a child in my brain that i am now sharing with you. 
> 
> I have to thank my Beta! Shannon17, She really believes in this little fic with me and I am excited to see where we take it. This is slated to be the first fic in a three part series, so keep an eye out and I hope you enjoy.

They come for us the day my mother is shot on live television.

 

Big, dark birds that pool on power lines and rooftops, watching with dark eyes as people pass like ghosts on the street below. No one dares mention their presence for fear they are Capitol mutts, sent to listen in on our conversations and report back to the white uniforms that flood the doorways and street corners with guns strapped to their backs.

 

I see them the way my grandmother might have.

 

An omen of death.

 

Just as the thought registers, one lets out a cluck and flutters down, landing in the square just feet away from me, he cocks his head toward me, feathers flustered about.

 

I grit my teeth and pull Prim along, muttering that mother will want fresh bread when she gets home tonight.

 

My mother often makes treks to the district bordering our own. She is the only doctor left in twelve and eleven after the purges. I am unsure why she was the only one left alive and when I ask her she gets this far away look in her eyes and her lips thin into a white line and she is gone from me, to the place she went when my father died.

 

But she crosses the border often to administer aid to whomever needs it. Whether its a peacekeeper that has been shot by the enemy or a woman in labor. I tell her she will end up dead one day. She shrugs me off, saying she has no choice but I think she welcomes the idea of the simple death of a traitor. A bullet to the brain.

 

Even I have to admit it sounds better than starving to death.

 

The bell above the door jangles our arrival, yet no one in line looks up. Almost like it is against the law to look at each other.

 

The television above the counter plays with the volume muted but the ticker at the bottom of the screen tells of a bombing in district 8 where thousands of factory workers are killed. It is nothing new, there are bombings nearly every day and it has always been this way. My father told me of a time when it wasn’t like this, when he was a boy, before the rebellion. He told me of our countries cruelties and how the people were no more than slaves to the far away city of the Capitol. How the people rose up to fight back and how they still fight for our freedom.

 

That is all well and nice, I think to myself. But the rebellion didn’t help when he died in a mine explosion and the rebellion didn’t help me or my sister when his stipend ran out and we were starving, and they don’t help me now as I watch the television flicker over to the fence that serves as a border between District Eleven and Twelve.

 

I watch the group of people sprinting through the tall wavering grass get mowed down by a spray of bullets. A few survivors make a break for the chain link fence, that is when I see her, behind the others, blonde hair being whipped by the wind.

 

I feel like I am floating under the velvet surface of the lake. Everything is quiet, like I have gauze stuffed in my ears.

 

“Katniss?” My little sister whispers. It is distant, like a dream.

 

Another spray of bullets and my mother falls. Her body twitches in the grass for a few seconds and then falls still.

 

My sister starts sobbing and eyes flicker to us and then to the television. I duck my head and drag my sister out of the bakery, but not before my eyes lock with his. The bakers youngest. Peeta Mellark.

 

His eyes are so full of pity I am drowning in it.

 

I keep my spine straight.

 

In case they are watching. But when I step into the squelching mud pit of a street there isn’t a raven in sight.

 

~~..~~

 

My sister has been in bed for days. Her cat cuddled into her side. She refuses to eat or drink or do anything more than cry over our mother, her blue eyes, usually the brightest thing in the entire district, are water logged and red and her already sallow cheeks are even sharper and the delicate skin under her eyes is stained purple.

 

I stay with her as long as I can but it’s tesserae day and we need food.

 

I bundle up into my coat and head for the train station to the rations office.

 

I list off my name for the woman and she ticks off my sisters name and age. I nod and then she lists off my mothers name and age. I swallow down my urge to sneer at her and I nod again. She gives me enough grain, oil and water tablets for three people, to last the month if we are careful.

 

I load them methodically into my wagon and make the trek home.

 

I wade through the mud slowly, being careful not to get my wagon stuck as my boots sink in the red clay.

 

I feel it through the layers of my threadbare socks and my worn out boots, the deep rumble in the earth, like hell itself was howling at me.

 

My head tilts up to the sky as people spill from homes and shop fronts.

 

My hand reaches out and just as I catch the first snowflake of winter.

 

More begin to fall, fat flakes landing on my shoulders, in my eyelashes. Nearby a little girl squeals in delight as she twirls, holding out her arms so she can catch the flakes, her lemon colored coat a stark contrast to the miserly sky. I reach out and touch a snowflake that has landed on my palm, it smears gray against my skin. It isn’t snow at all.

 

It’s ash.

 

I yank my shirt up over my mouth and nose as a few trucks rumble by and I leap out of their way as they narrowly miss my wagon, mud sloshes up my pant leg as they growl pass. Even with the howl of their engine I don’t miss the muted thud of hands on metal and the the indiscriminate cries from inside.

 

Traitor trucks. Another purge.

 

 _Cry all you’d like._ I think.

 

 _It won’t save you_.

 

~~..~~

 

Prim is asleep when I return. I sit with my arms wrapped around my legs, watching her in the flicker of the dying fire.

 

I don’t tell her about the bomb or the traitor trucks or the fact I saw our mother hanging from the side of the justice building collecting flies, even in the cold.

 

I let her sleep just a little longer.

 

~~..~~

 

“I’m hungry.” Prim complains in a tired voice. Her left foot is tucked behind her right as she rubs her eye sleepily. She did the same thing as a very small child. It melts something inside of me. I poke at the fire gently, the embers stir, the ash does too.

 

“Okay,” I whisper, trying to smile. “I’ll go to the forest.”

 

~~..~~

 

The fence is suppose to be electrified.

 

For our protection.

 

That is what they tell us. But I’ve never seen anything outside the fence that could hurt a district. Gale says its there way of keeping all of us from straying. Like a snarling dog is to a shepard. “What are we then?” I asked him mockingly.

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” He had said, waving his arms around. “The sheep.”

 

And it is electrified, sometimes. Not today though and I slip between the cold wires and up into the hills beyond the district. The ground is frozen and the trees are barren but even in this winter wasteland I breathe better than in that coal soaked cage. Sometimes I think I’d rather just die out here.

 

He is out here somewhere.

 

Gale.

 

Then he emerges from the treeline, a slender shadow.

 

“I thought you’d never show.” He smiles sideways at me. He doesn’t know yet. About my mother.

 

“Gale, I-” My words die somewhere between my throat and my mouth.

 

“What?” His breath is sharp and crisp against the frigid air.

 

He gives me a simple twist of lips. One that would have all the girls at school whispering behind their hands. I try to smile back and the smile slides from his face and shatters on the ground. My eyes fly to my boots and I work on taking in long, slow breathes.

 

“Katniss.”

 

People think Gale and I are lovers, the way we sneak out at all hours and slip out into the woods. They couldn’t be more wrong but we always act too high and mighty to correct them, walking through the district like a pair of stray dogs, a litter of puppies swarm around our ankles. My Prim and his brothers, Vick and Rory, then there is his baby sister, pale, pink little Posy.

 

The moment my knees hit the mud I wish we were, I wish he could offer me some kind of comfort but he just stands there, just as lost as I am. His arms hanging uselessly at his sides as I heave in air.

 

“Don’t cry.” I command myself and it is a small miracle that the tears don’t fall. Gale helps me up and doesn’t comment on the fact that blood trickles from a line of half moon crescents on my palms.

 

A half mile from the district there is a hollowed out log and it holds the only thing my father left behind worth anything. His shining achievement.

 

My bow.

 

I lift my quiver of arrows and pull it from its protective cloth. It shines bright even on this gray day.

 

Gale and I don’t say much but we walk together through the woods like we have for years, him flanking me as I watch the horizon for signs of life.

 

This time of year there isn’t much, but between my arrows and Gale’s snares we manage three rabbits and a couple of possums, even a squirrel. We won’t starve tonight and that is something.

 

My father used to say it was a gift, the way I could walk so silent through the woods that I could sneak up on even the birds. Now it feels like I am a ghost, slipping between the trees like fog, dazed by the image of my father dancing with my mother in the kitchen of the house we still live in, Prim and I, the skinny remnants of what used to be a proud family.

 

When we slip back under the fence we part. He heads to the hob to trade a rabbit. I take the squirrel to the bakery to trade for a loaf of bread.

 

I rap on the back door sharply and step back. The door opens and golden light pours over me.

 

It’s the youngest, Peeta.

 

I want to turn and run but he smiles warmly at me and I am rooted in place. For a moment I am in a different time entirely, I am standing underneath the sagging boughs of an apple tree, soaked to the bone.

 

“Hello, Katniss.” He says, his voice crackling like kindling under a flame. My throat goes dry as I remember the feeling of warm bread through a damp shirt.

 

“Hi, Peeta.” I croak. My eyes not daring to look up at his face.

 

“Would you like to come in?” He offers.

 

“No!” I shout too quickly, I hold up the squirrel as explanation. “I was hoping for a trade.”

 

He braces himself against the threshold and peers out at my squirrel. I expect him to sniff, turn up his nose, scoff. He doesn’t do any of it.

 

“You can’t trade with my father inside?” He asks, there is no malice in his voice, just curiosity. I’d snap something smart back at him if I could just soothe this dry spot in my throat.

 

 _Just say it!_ I growl at myself.

 

I would be easier if I could just say the words that have eluded me for years.

 

But how do you say thank you to the person that saved your life?

 

“It’s quite cold out here and you might have to wait awhile.” He says, tossing a tea towel over his shoulder. His blue eyes crinkle as he smiles at me. It’s like hot tea on a cold day. It floods my chest with an unexpected warmth. I’m eleven and digging through the trash bins again. I feel small and ashamed.

 

Hungry.

 

“I can wait.” I’m being obstinate and I know that but I can’t owe him anymore. “I’ll wait out here.”

 

“Katniss-”

 

I lift my chin and look him directly in the eye for the first time since we were eleven. He must see something he doesn’t like because he steps backward, back into the light that spills from the open door. In this dimness his hair gleams golden like tea. He is taller than I remember from school, his arms thick and corded from years of lifting those big, burlap sacks the flour comes in, I imagine.

 

“You know, we have coffee back here. It’s weak but it’s warm.” My mother adored coffee and then she invades my every thought. I think about her hair, as pale as moonlight. I think about her eyes, as deep as an ocean. I think about her dropping a soft kiss on my forehead. I think about her blank stare as they handed me the medal of valor that the Capitol traded for my father's life.

 

“I am so sorry about your mother.” Peeta whispers.

 

I can feel the red creeping up the back of my neck. My nostrils flare. Its like he knew the turn my thoughts had taken. It is his turn to flush as he backs into the bakery. Our eyes meet somewhere between us and he holds up his hands.

 

“I’m- I’m-”

 

“You’re what?” I say flatly.

 

“I’m just sorry.” He sags under the words.

 

“Go get your father.” I say weakly, the squirrel hanging limply from my fingertips.

 

~~..~~

 

I walk home alone.

 

I ignore the jeers of a couple of young peacekeepers that crowd around a barrel that has been lit on fire, the shadows dance across their faces as I pass them by. One reaches for me, a young blonde with eyes deep set and dark. His hand grabs my elbow and I still immediately, thinking of the rabbit that knocks against my hip.

 

“Hello, _Belle fleur.”_

 

Its a language my mother and father spoke, the rebels language but I don’t dare let on that I know what he is calling me. I only know a few stilted phrases, the language died with my mother.

 

The thought of the rabbit keeps my lips tightly pressed together as he grins at me, his teeth white, even in the shadows. He reeks of liquor, not the rich Capitol stuff either, the stuff Ripper makes in her bathtub and sells out of old mason jars at the black market.

 

“Sir, we should be reporting back to the barracks.” One of them chimes in. I let my eyes slide over to him, a young one that I’ve seen around at the hob, red hair and an easy going smile. He grabs the others arm and drags him back.

 

“Get home.” The red head says and I turn, forcing myself not to run.

 

As soon as I am hidden behind the brick wall of an apartment building I turn and vomit onto the paving stones.

 

~~..~~

 

Prim is awake when I get home. Her blue eyes watch the fire dancing.

 

I cook up the rabbit and watch her eat. She smiles at the bread like we are having tea with  President Snow himself.

 

I don’t tell her about the peacekeepers.

 

I think about making up our beds but in the end we end up sleeping right there together, clinging to each other.

 

~~..~~

 

_The sky has burst open._

 

_There is a torrent outside but I am too hungry too care. I just stand there and will it to pound me down to the mud, strip the flesh from my bone. I stare down at the empty garbage bin as despair fills me. There is nothing left, no food, no hope._

 

_Let me just die here._

 

_It would be better than going home to hollow little Prim or our blank eyed mother. I stumble a few feet and fall, under the scraggly branches of a apple tree._

 

_I glare up at the sky as white dots dance at the edge of my vision. My eyelids flutter and then slide shut._

 

_At least I can feel the rain on my face._

 

_“Stupid boy!” A woman yells from somewhere far off. “No one decent buys burned bread!” My head lolls, my dark braid sticks to my neck._

 

_A door slams and I feel eyes, watching me but I don’t have the strength to pry my eyes open._

 

_Just let me die._

 

_“Peeta!” His mother yells._

 

_My eyes fly open to see him standing on the porch steps, a few yards from me. His eyes stare. wide with what? Fear? Disbelief? I try to open my mouth, intent on saying something, anything but I am just too weak._

 

_He is holding two scorched loaves of bread, the kind with nuts and raisins that smell like heaven. My stomach contracts at the thought of them and saliva fills my mouth but so does anger. Did he come to flaunt them at me? Did he want me to watch as he threw them into the pig pen._

 

_I glare at him._

 

_He stares for a few long seconds but then his mother is banging around the kitchen and he flinches back. That is when I see it, the angry red welt on his cheek. She must have hit him, the slimy old witch._

 

_Peeta’s lips twitch upward in a smile. But it's so quick I can’t be sure I saw it._

 

_It happens fast._

 

_One moment he is standing on the porch the next he is standing at my feet, shaking my shoulder._

 

_“Hey,” He says. “Hey,Katniss?.”_

 

_“Wh-”_

 

_“There isn’t much time,” He whispers. “Here.” He shoves the two loaves of charred bread in my arms and disappears behind the bakery door._

 

_I stare down at the bread. I don’t understand their presence in my hands but Peeta doesn’t come back and neither does his mother.  I get to my knees and then I use the tree for balance as I scramble to my feet._

 

_I turn one last time, sure that I can feel his eyes burning a hole into me._

 

_All I hear is the rain beating against the earth._

 

_I turn and run home._

 

_~~..~~_

 

I wake and stare up at the waterlogged ceiling, it must have started raining sometime in the night. I listen to the downpour and think that must be what brought my memories back. Not the warm bread. Not the boy with the blue eyes. Not the gnawing hunger.

 

“Do you miss her too?” Prim squeaks. I glance over and she sniffs, burying her head into her pillow. I don’t say anything, I just run my fingers through her cornsilk hair. She tucks herself against my side and rest her head against my shoulder.

 

I am too quiet for too long.

 

“Are we going to be okay?”

 

I kiss her forehead, the way our mother used to.

 

“I don’t know, Prim.” I say, the words taste like ash.

 

~~..~~

 

I burrow down deep into my threadbare coat, it used to belong to my father but he hasn’t needed it in years so I patched up the holes the best I could. Its ill fitting and not exactly fashionable but it serves its purpose.

 

I step up into the black market, slipping my hand into my pocket to touch the cool metal of the ring that rests there. With my mother gone there is no one to miss it, it will fetch a good price and Prim needs new boots and we need coal to keep warm. There is a never ending list of things we need, there are always hands reaching out for more.

 

I never have enough.

 

“Fancy meeting you here.” Peeta Mellark says, sidling up to me.

 

“What are you doing here?” I try to hide my shock at seeing his fair curls gleaming in the dim light. Most of the people that shop at the black market look like me, dark hair, olive skin, hollow bodies and dead eyes. Peeta sticks out like a sore thumb, strong and solid, tell tale golden hair and big, blue eyes. He’s merchant through and through, like my mother.

 

“I hear this is where the pretty girls shop.” He says with a soft smile and my traitorous stomach swoops.

 

“Yes, well.” I say, forcing a scowl on my face. “You’re very pretty.” I grumble. When I glance up at him he blinks at me, eyelashes catching the winter sunlight, and then smiles, something startling and sweet. I step back and nearly trip on the stone step. His hands reach out to catch me as my feet tumble over each other.

 

“Whoa there,” His voice is gentle, like candlelight. His hands are warm, so warm I can feel them through the layers of my clothes. I can’t help it when my body jerks back away from him. He looks at me with his fathomless eyes.

 

I remember the peacekeeper that grabbed at me. I hear them sneering in my head.

 

His hands disappear from me quickly. I stumble forward. I hadn’t realized how steady he was. The world spins around me for an instant.

 

  
“I’m sorry.” He says and anything warm that might have been feels long gone now. More people file into the building, swarming around us, someone bumps into me.

 

Why does he insist on apologizing for things he has no control over?

 

For a moment I see his mother’s face swim before me, pinched and angry. I see the livid welt on his cheek. He looks away, his cheeks pink. He runs his hands through his wavy hair and it sticks up in every direction. I have a sudden urge to reach up and sooth it back down for him.

 

“I have to go.” I say shakily.

 

He really looks at me. Eyes as wide and blue as a summer sky.

 

 _Say it._ I think.

 

It is like we are both waiting for the other to move. He shoves his hands into his pockets. I clutch the ring in my pocket.

 

_Say it._

 

“Peeta?”  His name is like a dead language on my tongue.

 

“Katniss.” He says back with a smile and suddenly he doesn’t belong in this place, this district, he belongs in the meadow at sunset, surrounded by flowers and other gentle things. Not choking on coal dust with the rest of us.

 

_Say it._

 

“Be sure to get home before curfew.” I whisper and scramble away before he can respond.

 

 _Coward._ I think.

 

I find the silversmith stall. An aging man that used to work on the trains at the station until half of his face was burned away in an accident. Now he melts down silver and makes beautiful things, like the ring I hold out to him.

 

“How much can you give me for this?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from catching.

 

“I remember this ring.” He says, glancing up at me. “I made it.” He lifts it up to the light, to read the inscription inside, the delicate flowers.

 

“How much?” I snap.

 

“Five coins.”

 

I bite my lip before I can grumble something unpleasant. It is worth three times that and we both know it,but in the end I know I will take what he has offered. What choice do I have?

 

The five coins weigh me down as I walk. I imagine how disappointed my father would be to see me now, selling the one thing he loved more than his bow.

 

I make it to the meadow where I can collapse onto the frozen ground. It is there, where no one can see me, that I finally break. I howl my rage to the sky, I claw at the frozen ground, I scream. But I don’t dare cry over what is lost.

 

There would be no use in that.

  
  
  


~~..~~

 

Days go by and every footstep, every knock, every shout from the street sends dread slithering through me. It is only a matter of time before the peacekeepers come looking for us. Only a matter of time until we end up one of those sad eyed, bruised children that live at the community home. Prim is far too pallid and sweet to end up in a place like that.

 

Our nights are spent huddled together on the pallet, stripped down to the bare ticking as we watch the last of our coal wither away to ash. We don’t talk about our mother or the line of bodies hanging on the wall. We fear any mention of the traitors will bring peacekeepers in their gleaming white uniforms. We don’t dare breathe a word about the rebels, the bullets that ricochet off buildings in the night, the line of trucks that trek through the district.

 

All the good it does in the end.

 

~~..~~

 

They pound on the door so hard it rattles on its hinges. Prim is whimpering as she scrambles back.

 

“Primrose, get into the closet and stay quiet.” I say just as the door flies open. Peacekeepers pour into the room and my hands fly up as their guns point directly at my chest.

 

“Don’t move!” One shouts. Prim cowers into my side, making a small dismayed noise.

 

“Are you Rowan Everdeen?” I blanch back at my mothers name. They don’t know. They don’t know that she is on the wall. How?

 

It is because the Capitol sees us all. District citizen, rebel, man, woman, child. We all live the same. We all die the same.

 

“Are you the doctor?” He shouts.

 

“No!”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Katniss Everdeen,” One reads off a screen. “Aged sixteen. Primrose Everdeen, twelve.” My hands itch to push my sister behind me but I don’t dare lower my hands.

 

“Come with us.” One says and I am shoved forward. I stumble and land on my knees. My sister yells my name as one pushes me with the muzzle of his rifle.

 

“Where are you taking us?” I ask as I am drug to my feet. I am shoved again and I dig my bare heels into the carpet.

 

I hear my sister, distant, like a dream.

 

“ _Stop it._ ”

 

My heart slams against my ribcage as my throat constricts. “No.” I say through clenched teeth. My whole body going rigid as the head peacekeeper comes to stand in front of me. His mask is down, obscuring his face but I can see the shadows of his eyes. His fingers run down the butt of his gun.

 

“Do I need to pick you up and carry you, _Belle Fleur_?”

 

Gale was always the defiant one. The one that raged about the unfairness of it all, but in this moment all I can think of is my mother’s body, with her tongue bloated out of her mouth. My spit lands against his visor and for a long second everything goes still. I can see those shadow eyes narrow and I know I am a goner.

 

My light tread doesn’t save me this time. I barely have time to step back before the butt of his gun connects soundly with my temple.

 

My sister screams.

 

Black dots dance at the edge of my vision.

 

Then blessedly nothing.

 

~~..~~

 

_I am floating on the water._

 

_The sky above me goes on forever._

 

_“You need to wake up.” A voice says._

 

_My father?_

 

_Impossible._

 

_Even in my dreams I know he is dead._

 

_I let my eyes slide shut. The water is carrying me. I am weightless. I am free._

 

_Let me stay. I beg inside of my head. The sunshine is so warm against my cheek. It has been so long._

 

 _“_ _Réveille-toi, douce fille.” He says. “This place is not meant for you.”_

 

_~~..~~_

 

“Hey,” A voice breathes. “Hey, Katniss.”

 

I hear a moan, somewhere distantly. I think it is me but I am desperate to cling to that dreamscape that is already eluding me. My heartbeat pulses in my head and when I finally pry my eyes open all I see is more darkness.

 

“Are you okay?” The voice whispers.

 

I feel the rolling of tires beneath me, the soft growl of the engine vibrating the walls. My heart sinks into my stomach.

 

This is a traitor truck.

 

I am destined for a black bag in a square somewhere.

 

I will die in the dark.

 

I gasp as my head knocks against the side of the truck and I can’t help the whimper that escapes from somewhere inside of my chest.

 

“When he tossed you in here I thought for sure you were dead.” The voice whispers, small and helpless. I struggle to place it.

 

“There was so much blood.” His voice cracks.

 

“Peeta Mellark?” I croak.

 

“That’s my name.” He chuckles, it sounds how I feel, humorless, bitter. “I don’t know for how much longer.”

 

I sit up slowly, leaning my weight against the side of the truck. My head spins and my stomach lurches inside of me.

 

This is when the pieces of memory come back to me. The peacekeepers, my sister screaming. I reach through the darkness for her, my skull twinging with the quick movement.

 

“She isn’t here.” Peeta says.

 

“What?” I whimper. “Where is she? Primrose?” I feel the panic uncoils  inside of me. “Where the fuck is my sister?” My voice gets louder with each word.

 

“I don’t know.” Peeta answers, his voice is apologetic and cooly honest. My heart sinks into my stomach. There are so many reasons I could be on this truck, my hunting beyond the fence, trading with the merchant class, trading in the hob, the knife I keep under the mattress, they could even be punishing me for my mothers crimes, the idea of death has never bothered me before but the idea that my little sister might be suffering for my crimes is more than I can bare.

 

I wither like paper under flames and my gray tinged world goes black around the edges.

 

“Katniss, there are others here.” Peeta whispers. “I don’t think this is a traitor truck.”

 

I can’t see them, but now I can hear them. Sniffles and panting, muffled sobs.

 

“Who are they?” I whisper.

 

“More kids.” He says. “Our age.”

 

“What do they want with us?” I’m horrified when my voice cracks.

 

His hand reaches for me, I feel the crackle of his energy before he actually touches me. I feel a calm wash over me just as his fingers connect with mine. I am bathed in blue and softness, warmth. I almost feel safe. Or what I imagine safety would feel like.

 

“It will be okay.” His voice is like a balm.

 

How can he be so sure? In my whole life I have only ever been sure of one thing. That I love my sister. Everything else is a deep black void.

 

“I just know.” His voice is a whisper.

 

How does he do that?

 

How does he just know things? His fingers squeeze gently and I resign myself to silence. I wish myself dead.

 

It is better than any uncertainty that awaits me.


	2. Tumbling down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is she dying?” I ask. Some small part of me withers at the thought.
> 
>  
> 
> “We all are, Cheri.”

_ The summer sun is light as butter, so bright I can see every dust mote that hangs in the air. It’s quiet.  _

 

_ Too quiet.  _

 

_ I can’t hear the people walking on the street, or Papa singing, or my mother, gently humming along but not quite brave enough to join in. I strain to peek out the window above me and I can just make out the cloudless sky and the tops of the trees in the distance. I’d rather be out there today, with Papa, by the water but we’ve had to stay home with Mama today.  _

 

_ I lay back, my dark hair spilling like ink behind me.  I let my eyelids slide shut and I let the warmth and quiet lull me into a gauzy half sleep.  _

 

_ “Bientôt, ma douc.” A voice says.  _

  
  
  


The Capitol can lock us inside of a cage, they can hunt us like animals and execute us on live television for the world to see, but even the almighty cannot keep the sun from rising, even on the nights that feel like they will never end. 

 

Indigo light floods the truck and slowly the others come into view, some huddled together, others alone. One girl sobs in the corner, another boy pounds his head against the metal floorboards, his eyes staring sightlessly. 

 

Peeta, he’s here too. 

 

He is still in his white shirt he wears at the bakery, it is dotted with dirt and blood. I try to look at the shirt and not his face, mottled with purple bruises. We sit with our shoulders touching but neither of us can seem to break the oppressive silence. Has it been days? Hours? I feel like I have lived my whole life in this cold metal tomb. 

 

The silence must become to much for Peeta, he finally clears his throat. 

 

“So, uh, what’s your favorite color?”  he smiles woodenly. I swallow my scoff but I shift my weight so we aren’t touching. He glances down at his hands, pockmarked with pink scars. 

 

“Not in the mood to talk?” He asks. 

 

I bite my tongue and glare at the wall in front of me. 

 

“Yeah, me either.” He says. 

 

He doesn’t try to speak again.

 

~~..~~

  
  


The light is just fading when the truck slows and the earth shifts beneath the tires. In the distance I can hear dogs snarling, screaming. The girl is whimpering now, her golden curls spilling around her face. 

 

Every muscle inside of me goes rigid. There is a tightness at the back of my throat as I struggle to take in any oxygen, my heart beating against my ribcage uselessly. 

 

“Hey,” Peeta whispers, his voice lilting in a way that reminds me of my mother, before Prim, when she was only mine. His fingers collide with mine and I heave in a shuddering breath. “It’s okay.” He soothes, but his voice is a dry rasp. 

 

I feel the heat rising inside of me as I yank my fingers from his. “You can’t know that.” I whisper, his face falls. 

 

The doors fling open and light pours in. Soldiers must be standing there, yelling instructions but all I can see are the guns strapped to them and the dogs, straining against their leashes, foam dripping from their jaws. 

 

One of the peacekeepers grabs my arm and yanks me down out of the truck. My bare feet hit the gravel and I stumble, landing hard on my knees. I crawl forward and I struggle to stand. I find a light pole and use it to heft myself upward. 

 

There are more trucks. 

 

All around us children are being tossed like rag dolls from the bellies of the trucks. One girl makes a run for the fenceline in the distance. A peacekeeper yells something in another language and a dog streaks across the dead grass, catching the girl in the leg and they both go tumbling down to the ground in a mass of fur and red dress. Her screams turn to nothing. 

 

No one else tries to run.

  
  
  


~~..~~

 

I catch him out of the corner of my eye. 

 

A carbon copy of his older brother. 

 

“Rory?” His steel gray eyes hone in on my face and I see the relief flood him. “Rory Hawthorne?” I take a step toward him, pushing through the squirming mass of people to crush him to me. 

 

“They took him away.” He sobs. Neither of us have to say his name. We both know who he is talking about. “He tried keep them from taking Vick and me, they took him away.” I spot Vick in the crowd, wide eyed with his thumb shoved in his mouth. 

 

“What’s happening?” He whispers. His eyes are wide, looking up at me like he used to look at his brother. 

 

“I don’t know.” I say honestly, running my hands through his hair. He is fourteen but he might as well be ten in his brothers hand me down leather coat. “They took her, they took Prim.” I say, trying to keep my voice even. 

 

“Prim?” His voice cracks. His hair is like velvet under the rough pads of my fingers. Its soothing, as long as I am petting him I am still tethered to the world.

 

“Attention!” A peacekeeper shouts. His uniform is dotted with red, his visor is up and he looks like he could be someone's father or brother. Dark hair graying at the temples and wrinkles at the corners of his dark eyes. “I am Commander Thread.” 

 

A hush falls over the crowd. 

 

“The Capitol has removed you from your district for your safety. When the rebels have been extinguished you will be reunited with your loved ones back in your districts.”  _ Except the girl laying dead in the grass _ I think. “I know you all want to go home, follow the rules and you will.” I really look around at the crowd around me. There are children from all over here. A girl with sleek red hair is standing next to me, I can hear her quiet scoff as she crosses her arms over her chest. 

 

 “I’m calling bullshit,” Another girl mutters behind me. 

 

“I doubt there is a district to go back to.” A boy says back to her. “I hear the rebels have destroyed half of district 8 and 10.” 

 

“Those are just rumors Finn.” 

 

I risk a glance at the pair. A slight girl with dark hair and giant, cimmerian eyes stands next to boy, tall and broad with bronze hair. The boy catches me looking and winks at me causally, like this happens all the time. 

 

“All rumors start somewhere, don’t they Jo?” He is looking at me when he says it. I feel myself flush as I whip back around. 

 

“Now if you could all line up by district, please. We will get you showered and fed.” Another peacekeeper says and every one races to complete the task as the dogs strain against their leads. 

 

“Do you think she is here?” Rory whispers, his hand squeezes mine. The frigid wind whips my hair around my face as I whirl around, trying desperately to catch sight of her blouse or her pale blonde braids.

 

My heart sinks into my stomach. 

 

“I don’t think so Rory.” 

 

~~..~~

 

_ “They’ve been in there all day.” I complain over my soup. I shove my warm spoon into my mouth and glance over at the closed door.  _

 

_ “Nevermind, Child.” The voice says. “Eat your dinner.”  _

 

_ “Is Mama okay?”  _

 

_ “She will be.”  _

 

_ As if on cue a scream splits the quiet evening. Its something I have never heard before. It reminds me of red earth and rabbit warrens. There is a slippery smell in the air, metallic and sharp. Something I’ve smelled before but I can’t place.  _

 

_ “Is she dying?” I ask. Some small part of me withers at the thought.  _

 

_ “We all are, Cheri.”  _

  
  
  


_ ~~..~~ _

  
  


The crowd swallows me. 

 

I can feel the fear pulsing from person to person like a disease. I keep my head down as we are herded into a large open field. Rory clutches my hand as I hold Vick on my hip like I used to do Prim. His head falls onto my shoulder and I hum gently in his ear. 

 

“Katniss, when are they going to let us go home?” Rory asks. 

 

“I don’t know.” I say flatly. 

 

“Katniss where did they take Prim and Posy?” 

 

“I don’t know.” I snap testily. 

 

“Where are we?” He says, wiping his nose with shirt sleeve. 

 

I spin around. I can barely see over the sea of heads but I can make out large brick buildings and a wide expanse of pavement. 

 

“A school I think.” I whisper. If it was a school it hasn’t been used since before the war. Grass blades have began poking up through cracks in the black tar and climbing roses have begun to grow up the sides of the stone walls, corners of buildings are black with decay. 

 

In the distance lightning brightens the sky. 

 

My eyes narrow as the lightning grows brighter. The wind snaps my braid across my neck and the sky rips open and thunder rattles the earth beneath my bare feet. My hands instinctively cover Vicks ears as the Peacekeepers start screaming at us to get inside of the gymnasium. 

 

“What’s happening?” Rory whimpers, tugging on my hand. Panic has crept into his voice and I want to soothe him but I am too busy trying to inhale what little air I can. 

 

Bomb. 

 

I can hear the word simmer through the crowd as I yank Rory forward as the crowd pushes toward the buildings. Someone knocks into me and I pitch forward, scraping my bare feet against the pavement painfully. 

 

Peeta catches me. 

 

I don’t even know where he came from but he wraps his arm around my waist and hefts both me and Vick over the threshold of the building.

 

“ _ You are all safe now.”  _  A peacekeeper announces as the doors slam shut behind the last of us. “Try to remain calm.” I snort. 

 

Peeta chuckles softly. 

 

“What?” I snap. 

 

“Nothing.” He says with a smile. 

 

“No, what?” I insist testily. I fail to see what is so amusing. I am sore and bloody with two boys at my hips, miles from home, dirty and tired with bare feet and nothing but my night clothes to wear. 

 

“Nothing.” He sounds regretful. “Just, are you always like this?” 

 

“Like  _ what _ ?” I hiss.  

 

“Sarcastic in the face of death.” I blanch back. Somehow it wasn’t what I had expected. 

 

“What did you expect?” He asks. Shit. I must have said that part out loud. 

 

I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. He is watching me like I am the only one in the room. His brows dip together and they make him look - young. His eyes flit away from me as my heart flutters, fast, like a hummingbird’s wing. 

 

“Nothing.” I whisper. “Nothing at all.” 

 

~~..~~

 

They still have hot water. Boys and girls wash in separate rooms and they give us drab gray shirts with our district number on them and black trousers, shoes with rubber soles. I catch sight of myself in a metal door and I have cover my mouth to hide the gasp. 

 

My hair is wild and matted with blood that is crusted down the side of my face and neck. I am thinner than I remember, my knees and elbows knobs on my stem like limbs. My skin is pulled tight as a drum skin. I fear for a moment I might turn to dust right here and float away on the wind. The end of the girl Everdeen. 

 

I thought I had accepted that nothing in the world is that easy but as I am shoved into spray of lukewarm water there is a tightness in my throat that no amount of swallowing will soothe and a dull heat pricks behind my eyes. 

 

I stand beneath the spray, letting the water wash away my tears studiously avoiding the other girls stripped bare and pale around me.. 

 

A memory flashes around me of my sister. 

 

.  _ Prim is so little, with those big, blue eyes. Her eyelashes stick wetly to her youthful cheeks as she sleeps, her breath even and deep. It is only then, when I am sure she is asleep that I crack beneath the weight of my own grief. I let out a strangled noise, a sob tangling in my chest as I clutch at my sheets.  _

 

_ Outside the wind howls around our little clapboard house and it whips the rain against the window pane above me. Is he really gone? _

 

_ “Katniss?”  _

 

_ I wipe at my eyes furiously.  _

 

_ Our mother hasn’t moved since we got home from the mines. Prim needs somebody to be there for her.  _

 

_ “Sorry Prim.” I warble out. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”  _

 

_ Her arms are sturdy, even at seven and they wrap around my neck like a vice.  _

 

_ “I love you.” She whispers. _

 

The world swims around me as I wipe the water away from my face. I have never had a shower before, it's like warm rain. I watch the soot and blood swirl around the drain as my tears slow and when I finally step out I feel like something has focused in my head.

 

My sister is out there somewhere and I may not be brave or strong or smart but I am the only one she has and I have to find her. 

  
  


~~..~~

 

_ “Wake, Cheri.”  _

 

_ A hand warm and worn out like old leather rests on my forehead, soothing back my hair. I am warm. I am floating.  _

 

_ My eyelids flutter open to a bright moon above my window. A million summer stars sewn into a black velvet night.  _

 

_ “She is here.”  _

 

~~..~~

 

“It’s tastes okay if you don’t look at it.” Peeta says to Vick, twirling his spoon at the pile of gray mush on his tray. Vick rolls his lips up into his mouth and glares at his plate. 

 

“I want my Mom.” He blurts. 

 

“Quit being a baby Vick.” Rory grumbles, shoveling a spoonful of mush into his mouth. 

 

Vick doesn’t retort but he sniffs down at his plate, it is just a matter of time before the waterworks start up. His bottom lip trembles and I am already getting ready to console him. 

 

“You know what I could go for?” Peeta asks to no one in particular. The table goes quiet, all eyes lock on him as he shoves some mush into his mouth. “Fried squirrel.” He smiles, glancing up at me with a subtle wink. My mush seems terribly interesting and I focus on flattening it down with my spoon. 

 

“I miss my Mom’s rabbit stew.” Rory finally chimes in. 

 

“Lemon candies.” A small boy to Peeta’s right pipes in. “Dropcakes fried in bacon fat.”

 

“How about you Katniss?” Peeta whispers. I startle at the sound of my name and drop my spoon. It clatters against my tray. “What do wish you had to eat.” 

 

I stare down at my tray. 

 

I really am thinking about it. It has been so long since I have allowed myself the luxury of wanting anything even just a meal. I sense the disappointment dripping through Peeta, even with a couple feet of table between us. I can almost imagine his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

 

“Roasted duck and katniss tubers with gravy.” I whisper and his head shoots up. His blue eyes search my face. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. The quiet girl that hunts beyond the fence. 

 

“Sounds delicious.” He says and there is that soft, kind thing in his voice again. 

 

“How about you Vick?” I say, pushing his hair away from his face and tilting his head back. He squirms out of my grasp. 

 

“I want Gale.” 

 

Silence falls between the lot of us like a guillotine.

 

“Me too, Vick.” I say uselessly. 

 

“I’m sure they will let us go home any day.” Peeta whispers. “Gale will be waiting for you there, you’ll see.” He looks straight through me.

 

“Yeah and he’ll be mad to know that you wasted a perfectly good dinner.” I scold. “So eat.” 

 

But I’m not looking at Vick. 

 

I’m watching Peeta.  

  
  


~~..~~

 

Cots and itchy wool blankets. 

 

It’s more than I could have asked for. 

 

I burrow down deep under my covers and listen to the steady drum of my heart. It wouldn’t dare keep beating in a world where my sister’s does not. That is how I know she isn’t dead. 

  
  


~~..~~

 

_ “Come here, Cheri.” My father whispers. He lifts me up and leads me into the bedroom. My mother is fast asleep, her pale yellow hair wild around her face, sweat is dried to her forehead and her lips are slightly parted, her tongue peeks out from between her pink lips. I reach out to touch her face and I see the white sheets that pool around her knees is stained a deep, dark red.  _

 

_ That smell.  _

 

_ Earthen and metallic all at once.  _

 

_ “Papa?” My arms lock around his neck as fear drips into me like ink into water.  _

 

_ “Mama is alright.” He comforts. “Only sleeping.”  _

 

_ I reach out my hand and slide my fingers down her cheek, soft like a petals of a flower.  _

 

_ “Mama?” I whisper, my breath fanning her cheek.  _

 

_ “Katniss, let your mother sleep. Come look.” He brings me over to a small wicker basket. He pulls back a knitted blanket.  _

 

_ She is pink and pale and her hair is like starlight.  _

 

_ “This is your sister.” My father whispers. “Primrose.”  _

 

_ I scrunch my nose and this makes my father laugh.  _

_ “What?” He chuckles. “Don’t you like her?”  _

 

_ “She isn’t very big.” I say.  _

 

_ “No, she isn’t.” He agrees and this makes me smile. He presses a kiss into my forehead and rocks me back and forth. “That is why we must protect her.”  _

 

_ I reach out without thinking, my fingers brushing her pink, new skin. Her finger latches onto mine and her grip is surprisingly strong for someone so small.  _

 

_ “Well, what do you think?” My father says finally. _

 

_ Her eyes open.  _

 

_ They are the color of midnight. A deep blue you could climb into and ever come back out.  _

 

_ I lean forward and press a kiss into her forehead as my father smiles warmly.  _

 

_ He presses my head against his shoulder and presses a fierce kiss into my hair. I feel something twist inside of me and I don’t have a name for it, not yet, but I know that nothing will ever be the same again.  _

 

_ Her tiny fingers squeeze mine. Her eyes blink up at me, she opens her mouth. And wails.  _

 

_ ~~..~~ _

 

“Where do you think we are?” Peeta asks. 

 

I wrench around taking in the gunbarrel sky, the wall of endless green trees, the trenchant smell of soot and chemicals in the air. I love this forest. Beyond the razor sharp barbed wire it sits stoic and unforgiving just begging to be explored. 

 

“District seven,” I muse. “Or maybe two?” 

 

Too far from home. 

 

“Katniss?” Peeta whispers. 

 

“What?” I growl. 

 

“They’ll let us go home.” He reaches out like he is going to set his hand on my shoulder but he must think better of it because he pulls his hand back and shoves it into his pocket. 

 

“How do you know?” The Capitol is all knowing, all encompassing. They also hold the ability to crush us in one fell swoop. We work and supply them with what they need. They protect us. That was the deal cut so long ago it has faded from living memory. 

 

There are stories about a government that was run by the people. Gale talks about it a lot in his rants in the woods. I always listened quietly but deep inside I felt they were always just fables. I stare out at the treeline. 

 

“What did they do with my sister, Peeta?” I ask. I ask him because he knows things. It always has been the subject of whispers. Peeta can answer a question before you’ve asked it. Kids talk about how birds land on his shoulders and stray dogs follow him around the district. I had rarely given the rumors any thought. It's ridiculous to think someone can read minds. _Right_? 

 

But Peeta knows things. That is undeniable. He has to know where the other children have gone.

 

My eyes pierce into him and the look on his face threatens to split me right down the middle. He looks flustered and sorry, eyes filled with some emotion I don’t dare name because it looks a lot like pity. 

 

I stumble back, away from him. 

 

“Katniss I-” 

 

“Its fine.” I mumble. But he knows doesn’t he? That I am not fine. That none of us are. In this moment I think I might hate him for it. 

  
  


~~..~~

 

They give us jobs. 

 

We each work in a rotation, somedays in the garden, sometimes in the laundry or the kitchen. The Peacekeepers always watching with their guns. 

 

Delly Cartwright, a blonde girl from my district whispers to Peeta as they sit together at breakfast. She seems happy enough here but then I never thought she was terribly bright. She always had more to say about hair ribbons than anything else. I sit across from them and try to ignore her chatter. 

 

Most of the kids from the Seam have come alive in the days after we arrived, there bellies full for the first time ever. They are more than happy to work for their food but I get this nagging feeling that all of this will come with a cost too high to pay. The Capitol may be generous but it always comes with a price. 

 

A bell goes off and we all head to the front of the room to be assigned our jobs. 

 

“So about your favorite color?” A voice says from behind me. I roll my eyes to the ceiling. 

 

“What is Delly’s favorite color?” I ask, not liking the tartness to my voice. I square my shoulders and look straight ahead, even as he laughs. 

 

“I’m asking you.” 

 

“Why?” I snap as the girl in front of me steps up to get her assignment. A list is printed on her forearm in purple ink that stays on until we wash at the end of the day. 

 

“You just have an air of mystery about you.” He says and I turn back to glare at him as I snort. He gives me a crooked smile. “I just can’t help myself.”

 

The girl ahead of me moves out of line and I turn back around, stepping up to the table where I Peacekeeper grabs my arm roughly. 

 

“Fine keep your secrets.” Peeta says. I turn back around just in time to see his smug smirk. 

 

“Does anyone have any secrets from you?” I say smartly. Something flickers across his face, something between frustration and sadness. His eyes narrow and he breathes sharply through his nose, like my words were painful. 

 

His hand goes up and claws the back of his neck, his fingers snagging in his hair. 

 

The crowd swells around me and I am pushed forward. He says something but I can’t quite catch it over the din. I stumble out into the cold winter sunshine. I don’t see Peeta for the rest of the day, though my heretic eyes keep a sharp watch for him.

 

~~..~~

 

In the evenings I pace the fence. I don’t know what I am looking for until I see it.

 

The frayed edge of the fence coming loose from the fence post. Slowly something takes root in my head. 

 

~~..~~

 

“Hold on, Prim.” I whisper against my pillow. “I’m coming for you.”

 

~~..~~

 

I have gardening duty today. 

 

I spend the morning tossing dirty carrots and turnips into different wheelbarrows that get carted off to the kitchens. It's quiet work in the sunshine that normally I enjoy more than the laundry. Today I can’t stop thinking about the slight hole in the fence. If I could only get passed it I could slip into the woods unnoticed. I could be back to district twelve in a weeks time. 

 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Peeta says from behind me. I nearly jump out of my skin as I leap around to face him. He is covered in dirt, there are twigs stuck in his hair. His hand comes up to wipe the sweat away from his forehead, his fingers dusted in a fine layer of grime. 

 

I’m caught. 

 

My mouth goes dry as I stare at him, willing him to keep his big trap shut. I should have known that my mind wasn’t safe! Something must show on my face because he laughs, his shoulders shaking gently. 

 

“You’re thinking, turnips for dinner again. How did we get so lucky?” He winks at me and relief floods me. If he can hear my thoughts as people suspect he isn’t going to out me here. 

 

“Get back to work you two!” A Peacekeeper shouts. 

 

Peeta rolls his eyes and starts to walk and I can’t stop the slow smile spreading across my face. I turn my head, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him. I feel myself go beet red when our eyes lock again. 

 

I stare down at the trowel in my hand. Would it be missed? I glance up, checking to make sure no one is looking, but there is someone staring at me. Peeta. He shakes his head so slightly someone else might not catch it, but I do. 

 

I drop the trowel back in the dirt by my feet. I look back to where Peeta is standing but he is gone. 

 

~~..~~

 

After dinner I give Rory an excuse that I am not feeling well and need air. I slip out the heavy metal doors and out into the cold evening air. It’s leisure time and kids are pooled around the field laughing and lounging in the last dregs of winter sunlight. 

 

“Why do you think they brought us here?” I hear a girl ask a boy. 

 

“I heard it was to keep us safe because rebels started bombing districts. The rebels allowed the children to be pulled out before the fighting got out of control.” 

 

“The Capitol just doesn’t want all of their slaves dead.” Someone else chimes in. “They don’t care about our safety.” 

 

Someone hisses at him to shut up as I walk out of earshot. 

 

Peacekeepers are grouped around as well. They laugh and chat and play cards, one even has his visor off and is smoking a cigarette. 

 

I reach the edge of the field and walk, looking for anymore weak spots in the fence and I am surprised to find several. I am careful to keep my eyes trained on the horizon, pretending to admire the lush forest, rich with ferns. If I take a deep breath I can almost smell the decomposing leaves and damp pine needles beneath the smell of sulphur and soot. 

 

A few inches beyond the fence a dandelion has grown up, happy as you please. I can’t help my pleased smile as I reach through the fence to pluck it. The stem snaps and I pull it toward me.

 

“There you are.” 

 

I am so startled that the dandelion slips from my grasp and flutters to the ground. 

 

“Peeta?” I snarl. “What are you doing?” 

 

“What are you doing?” He snaps back at me. 

 

“I’m-” My voice dies, what am I doing? Peeta reaches out and plucks the fence away from its post. He lets it go and it snaps back into place, the metal shaking, the noise rattling around in my head as I suck in a sharp breath. 

 

We are hidden from view on both sides by a thick outcropping of bushes and ferns. 

 

“Were you leaving?” He asks, a faint accusatory tone that sends something rotten bubbling in my blood. 

 

He laughs but there is no humor in it. No malice either. It sounds resigned or maybe tired. 

 

“And what were you going to do?” He asks, his voice soft. “Walk all the way back to Twelve?” 

 

When he says it like that it sounds utterly impossible. I stare out at the vast expanse of the forest and feel what little hope I have flee from me. 

 

“Katniss-” His voice is placating. He is clearly trying to mollify me. My fingers thread through the fence as my nostrils flare. 

 

How dare he? 

 

I’ve been caring for Prim and myself since I was eleven. I hunt beyond the fence. I am not some helpless rabbit caught in trap. 

 

“Katniss, we don’t even know where we are!” His voice is flat and practical. “It could be weeks before you make it back. What will you eat?”

 

“I’ll make a bow.” I whisper. I don’t like the tightness in my throat or the heat that is building my chest. “I’ll hunt. I'll survive.” I say stubbornly. 

 

“What about Rory and Vick?” He whispers. “Would you abandon them here?” 

 

“I don’t know!” I cry. “I’ll take them with me, or I’ll come back for them! I don’t know what I am going to do Peeta but I do know my sister is out there waiting for me and I can’t leave her alone! I won’t!” 

 

“Katniss, I am not saying you shouldn’t leave-” He is gearing up for some long winded speech. I feel it coming and I prepare myself for the death blow. The complete loss of hope that he is about to plant squarely on my shoulders. 

 

A twig snaps. Peeta sucks in a lungful of air. Our eyes lock as we listen to the distant ghosts of a conversation get louder. Footsteps. I feel my heart sink into my stomach. 

 

“Katniss, do you trust me?” Peeta asks, his voice wavering. 

 

“What? Why?” I snarl. His arm lifts from his side and he reaches across the space between us, his fingers graze the skin of my cheek, his skin is warm against my wind chilled face. 

 

For a instant my traitorous head tilts into his touch. He inches closer to me. I stumble, my back hitting the chain link behind me. Then his other hand is on my shoulder, holding me in place. His head dips and I am sure his lips are going to connect with mine. My heart hammers in my chest so hard I feel it will climb up my throat. 

 

He is so close I can feel his breath against my cheek. I can smell the soap on his skin. His eyelashes flutter golden in the sunlight as he tilts his head. Our lips are so close that if I sway on my feet we’ll touch. 

 

That calm hits me. The one I felt in the truck. That blue that makes all worried voices in my head go quiet and still. My eyelashes graze against his cheek as my eyes slide shut. 

 

“Alright you two,” A voice sneers. I startle and lurch forward, Peeta catches me. His palm landing on the small of my back as he steadies me. “Out here.”

 

“You’re alright.” He whispers against the shell of my ear. I expect him let me go but he doesn’t he plasters a cocky smile on his face and wraps his arm around my shoulder. 

 

“Sorry Commander,” Peeta says. “Is leisure time over?” 

 

Commander Thread narrows his eyes as his companion smirks. 

 

“What are two doing back there?” The Commander snarls, peering beyond us to the fence. 

 

I can feel the flush run from the roots of my hair straight down to my toes. Peeta removes the heavy weight of his arm and I sway forward. He grabs my hand and I dig my nails into him. 

 

“Oh you know,” Peeta clears his throat. “Just- ah- being leisurely.” He glances down at me with a wink as I glare at him. 

 

“Get inside.” The Commander snarls. “I’ve got my eye on you two.” Then he mutters something about not being paid enough and babysitting children wasn’t in his job description.

 

Peeta keeps a firm hold on my hand as I feel the burn of the commanders eyes on my back. We walk slowly, even though my heart is pounding and my mind is telling me to sprint all the way back to twelve. 

 

Peeta leans over and brushes the hair away from my ear. I remember the eyes on me and I force myself not to cringe back. 

 

“Katniss, I am not saying you shouldn’t try to save your sister.” He whispers. “I am just saying you need a plan. You need help.” I swallow down my anger at being told that I am weak. I want nothing more than to shake his hand away from mine and scurry for the nearest tree. “Let me help you.” 

 

I stop dead in my tracks and he turns to face me. His eyes are so blue they are almost clear with a dark ring around the iris. Somewhere in the wintery blue are flecks of gold, I think. It could be an illusion, a trick of light. 

 

“Why would you help me?” I accuse. I want to open my mouth again and ask him why he insists on showing up wherever I am. Why he sits with me at the tables or why he handed me the bread. Why? Why? Why me? The questions pound against my skull like a headache. 

 

All I get out is a weak “Why?” My voice warbling and tired. 

 

“Because you deserve it.” He says and he doesn’t sound weak and afraid like me. He sounds strong and sturdy and brave. Can he feel the fear radiating off of me? 

 

“What do you want?” I ask, hating how helpless I sound. 

 

“I want to come with you.” He whispers. He cups my face in his hands and tilts my chin upward. He leans down as I stand there saucer eyed, muscles pulled so tight I couldn’t move if I wanted to. “Remember, we’re being watched.” He says. 

 

His lips connect with mine gently. They are warm and just slightly chapped as he presses against me firmly, his arm winding around my waist to pull me closer to him, as if I had any hope of moving. 

 

His lips are on mine for only a moment, one of billions but it stretches on around me and something heavy as lead lands hard in my chest. Then his warmth is gone and I trip forward, but Peeta is waiting and he catches me. 

 

“Alright, knock it off.” The Commanders friend laughs. “Get back inside.” 

 

I feel like I am floating in a haze. The world feels gauzy and soft, bathed in the lavender light. Peeta says something teasing but I am too far away. I press my fingers against my lips and walk mechanically back to the cafeteria. 

 

~~..~~

 

I make a list in my head of things I need. 

 

_ Matches. _

_ Food. _

_ Water. _

_ Warm clothes. _

 

I make lists as I stir pots of boiling water and dig for potatoes and as I lay on my back on sleepless nights, staring up at the water stained ceiling above me. The list goes on and on. I repeat the words over and over in my head until they lose all meaning. 

 

~~..~~

 

Peeta has his arm around my shoulder as we sit on a bench outside. The weather is warming up and more kids are outside enjoying the first warm spring breeze. Rory and Vick make a game out of tossing rocks. 

 

I lean into Peeta as he runs his hands down my arms. A group of kids walk by, whispering behind their hands. We aren’t the only two kids that have “coupled” while here, far from it. But we are the talk of our district where the seam and the merchant class rarely mix. 

 

Peeta seems unfazed by the whispers and the occasional snide comment from our classmates. It is nothing new for me. 

 

“I need to get my hands on some matches.” I whisper. 

 

“Good luck,” He says. “I tried to steal a can of beans today but Purina has eyes like a hawk.” He flips my braid back and his hand rests on my neck, he smiles and then chuckles like I have said something terribly funny. 

 

Peacekeepers must be watching. 

 

It has been two weeks since Thread caught us at the fence. Peeta is glued to my side as much as possible. We have managed a small pile of food that we hid in the bushes near the garden in a canvas bag Peeta snagged from the laundry. 

 

We sit here in the evenings making lists of what we have and don’t have. The don’ts still heavily outweigh the do’s and when I think about it my stomach flips inside of me. 

 

“What we really need.” Peeta says leaning toward me so his lips rest gently against mine. “Is a map.” He says and presses the words against my lips. Every bit of my body tingles and it is startling how good it feels. I scoot backward and Peeta smiles, shy and sweet and the tops of his ears go pink. 

 

He is good at this. 

 

When I glance over Rory crinkles his nose and makes a gagging noise. I roll my eyes and make a face until I manage to pull a smile out of him. 

 

That is how he sneaks up on me. 

 

Peeta grabs hold of my chin and pulls me back to him, his lips smashing against mine, his tongue runs across the seam of my lips. I push on his chest he slips away, his arms keeping a firm hold on me. 

 

I look over to see Thread watching us from the front gate, eyes narrowed. 

 

“Do you think he suspects anything?” I whisper. 

 

Peeta opens his mouth to answer but the words never make out. The ground rattles and the trees shake. 

 

“Was that a-" Bits of tree and earth go flying. 

 

“Katniss, get down!” Peeta hollars but all I can think about are precious few supplies I have stored in the shrubs. I stagger forward. 

 

There is a explosion to my left and it's pandemonium. Children are screaming as chunks of cement and shrapnel go flying. I am knocked forward, skidding into the earth. I land on my side and I roll  as a chunk of a building the size of a small boulder hits the earth where I just was. 

 

I know I should move. 

 

I can hear people screaming but it sounds so distant. My ears ring as lay there, stunned and gasping. 

 

How long have I been here? 

 

Seconds? Hours? 

 

I feel the chaos around me but I can’t bring myself to stand up and something is wrong with my ears. I can see the people moving around me. I can see the bloodied children screaming, I can see the Peacekeepers screaming orders but I can’t hear them. I can’t hear any of them. 

 

Slowly the world comes back into focus. One of my ears can make out the hum of noise. I hear someone yelling my name. Rory, I think. 

 

Someone touches my shoulder and I jolt forward, scrambling backward on my hands and knees. “It’s okay.” Peeta whispers. “It’s just me.” 

 

There is a rumble through the earth and it starts a fresh round of screaming. 

 

“Peeta?” I whimper. 

 

Someone is crying. 

 

“Rory? Vick?” 

 

“Your ear.” Peeta says and I touch my left ear gently, wincing as a sharp pain stabs behind my eyes. My fingers come back red.

 

“I can’t hear out of it.” I whisper. “I can’t hear.” 

 

He lifts me up. 

 

“Your going to be okay.” Peeta says. He always says that. I try to push away from his chest. Rory staggers passed us, his eyes glued on some point in the distance. I call to him but he trudges forward, stumbling over bits of debris. 

 

“Rory!” I cry. “Rory where is Vick?” 

 

“Katniss,” Peeta says gently. Rory falls to his knees. Bodies litter the ground but there is only one close by. 

 

Vick. 

 

His gray eyes stare sightlessly at the sky. His legs are crumpled beneath him, his neck contorted at an odd angle. 

 

“Vick!” I scream, trying to claw my way out of Peeta’s arms. 

 

“Katniss we need to get out of here.” He says, just as the words leave his lips there is another crash in the distance. Peeta wastes no time yanking Rory up by his arm and lifting him to his feet. 

 

“Run.” He commands. “And don’t look back.”  

 


	3. Kingdom Conquered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is like being underwater.
> 
>  
> 
> Everything goes still and silent and muted.
> 
>  
> 
> The monstrous voices are gone. Everything is quiet and I know intrinsically that only Peeta has this power. My eyes flutter shut in relief.
> 
> I am trapped between his palms. He could crush me if he wished. When my eyes open he is looking at me like he is the hopeless one.
> 
>  
> 
> “Better?” He asks, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. The movement startles me enough that I stumble back. His hands disappear and I miss their warmth, though I would never admit it.

_The morning after Peeta threw me the bread dawns bright blue with white fluffy clouds, the first real day of spring. I climb out of bed with the first full stomach I have had in months. I should be happy, but as I braid my hair I stare at my reflection in the mirror with dread pooling in my stomach._

 

_Peeta will be in school. He will probably want an explanation for why I scrambled away so rudely without so much as a thank you. But how? How do you say thank you to the person who just saved your life?_

 

_“Katniss?” Prim whispers._

 

_“I’m ready.” I say to mirror Katniss._

 

_Nothing could be further from the truth._

  
  


I land in the mud, my hands scraping against chunks of rocks and slicing glass as I struggle to stand. Someone, Peeta I think, grabs the collar of my shirt and hefts me up. I heave in a lungful of air, it tastes acrid and metallic, like chemicals and I shove my shirt over my mouth and nose. I grab Rory and push him in front of me. He lacks Gale’s light feet and he stumbles along, slowed by the sobs racking his body.

 

“Run!” I shout as another bomb goes of behind us. “Go!” I plead, my lungs screaming for air. I can see the cafeteria shutter as we reach the black top. I grab Rory’s hand and scramble for the building, looking for any shelter it might offer from the shrapnel and flying chunks of earth and cement. My heart pounds as Peeta pulls on the collar of my shirt.

 

“Not there!” His voice is barely discernible over the frantic screams children.

 

“Where?” I shout.

 

“There!” He pushes me toward a large outcropping of trees just on the other side of the now useless fence. I grab Rory by the hand as the three of us streak for the trees, just as the building in front of us starts to crumble with a dull crack.

 

Children litter the grass, eyes staring, limbs limp, lips parted. All of them take on the same pallor as their blood drains back to the earth.

 

A sharp whistle gives way just as we reach the pines, we disappear into the shade just as a hovercraft appears from the blue sky. Peeta has just enough time to wrap his hand across my mouth as we watch helplessly as a red headed girl makes a beeline for our hiding place, and is knocked down by a spray of bullets.

  
  


“Oh my god,” I sob. “Oh shit.” Every breath stings my chest as I collapse against the spindly trunk of a sapling. My pulse dances erratically in my neck.

 

“Vick.” Rory gasps. His chin trembles violently. He doesn’t look fourteen, he looks like a frightened toddler.

 

“Rory, we have t-” I reach for him but he slinks away from me.

 

“We can’t leave him there!” He howls.

 

“There isn’t any time!” I say.

 

Rory looks at Peeta for help, his silver eyes welling with tears. Peeta shifts his weight and looks down at his shoes and I am sure we are lost, that we will go back for the dead. I am prepared to grab Rory and drag him back kicking and screaming but then Peeta shakes his head softly. Rory dissolves into soft sobs, his head landing against my chest.

 

“We have to go,” Peeta whispers.

 

“Where?” I snarl. “ They’re shooting people!” I look to the sky, the hovercraft is gone as silently as it came. Was it the Capitol? What reason would the rebellion have to shoot us?

 

“We could go deeper into the trees.” Peeta says.

 

“I need to get our pack.” I say, trying to peel Rory away from me.  

 

“Are you insane?” Peeta grabs my elbow and yanks me back into the safety of the trees.

 

“We can’t leave without it, we’ll die!” I snarl, yanking my arm out of his grasp.

 

“You’ll die if you go out there.” He counters.

 

“I can’t just stay here and do nothing.”

 

“Yes you can.” A stubborn edge has crept into his voice and I hate it.

 

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do! I’m fast, I’ll stick to the trees!” I shout, dangerously close to tears.

 

“If you leave, you die.” He says plainly. “You can’t help your sister if you are dead. You can wait until night.”

 

I narrow my eyes but I don’t argue anymore. We sit in silence. Peeta watches the sky, waiting, or perhaps, listening. I cling to Rory. Holding on to whatever scraps I have left.

 

~~..~~

 

It’s quiet now.

 

~~..~~

 

I stare down at the peacekeeper in front of me. His uniform is pristine, his eyes shut peacefully like he is only sleeping. The only clue outwardly that something is amiss is the trickle of blood trailing out of his mouth.

 

I step over him and inside of the sagging cafeteria. I start to hack the dust from my lungs just a few feet passed to door. My body trembles with the force of it.

 

I can barely make out the edges of dark hunks of cement and splintered beams in the glowing light of dusk. I know this is dangerous and waiting just meant that I have only a few minutes to grab whatever I can and slip out before night makes it impossible to see.

 

I scramble forward on my hands and knees, trying to listen as best I can with what little hearing I do have for collapse. It feels like forever, climbing under chunks of cement and bricks. Running into something slimy and swallowing down the acidic taste of bile in my throat as I my hands turn brown with blood and dust.

 

Luckily for me I don’t have to go far.

 

The kitchen wasn’t far away from the door and the pantry has been largely untouched. I begin grabbing things at random, cans of soup and random vegetables. I grab a hunk of cheese, a tin of tea and couple of mealy lemons.

 

I am just shoving the lemons into the bag when the ceiling above me gives a moan.

 

“Oh fuck,” I mumble to myself.

 

I stumble forward, toward a crack in the door. A flicker of silver catches my eye and I can’t stop myself from grabbing the kitchen knife off the ground. The ceiling gives one last shuttering gasp and I freeze, the knife hanging at my side. _This is it._ I think. I hope Peeta takes Rory and leaves, goes back to twelve and finds my sister.

 

I swallow down the fear threatening to spill from my mouth.

 

 _Don’t let her starve_. I plead with whoever might be listening.

 

A sliver of pale light drips through a hole just above the ground. I don’t have time to think, I just dive forward and shove my head through, wriggling my shoulders I slide through the opening. I scramble on my elbows as my hips stick. I can’t help the frustrated scream that rips from my chest as I stab the knife into my hand into the soft black earth and pull myself through the rest of the way, I land in a heap on the other side, I roll onto my side and grab hold of my pack and heave it through the hole. I wrench my way up and stagger blindly through the night, stumbling over the dead.

 

“Who can’t go into the collapsing building, Peeta?” I snap acerbically , throwing the pack over my shoulder. It weighs me down and my lungs still ache from the dust and chemicals in the air. I stick to the cover of trees, watching the empty sky for signs of danger, like I could, like all of us aren’t completely fucked.

 

I lurch forward as my foot snags on a tree root or a rock and I pitch forward landing hard in the dirt, scraping my chin on a rock. The pack lands against my back and I shove my hand into my mouth the keep from screaming.

 

I roll onto my side and glare at the offending obstruction.

 

A peacekeeper. A gun hanging from his limp hand. Slowly and carefully I peel his fingers from it. The metal is cold against my skin and it is heavier than I thought it would be, I shove it in the waistband of my pants.

 

I get one last glimpse of the field, soaked in moonlight. The bodies left to rot where they landed. I swallow painfully and try to think of something to say, some sort of prayer for peace. Some hope that wherever those children are it is infinitely better than this world, where their lives and deaths meant nothing.

 

The words don’t come.

  


~~..~~

 

The pack hits Peeta with a dull _thwack_.

 

His glassy eyes meet mine and I don’t need to read his mind to see the fear darkening the blue. It is just as startling as it is confusing. I step backward as fear lances up my own spine. What could make him look that way?

 

Whatever it was it must be gone now. I see relief flooding his face. I feel myself relaxing as he looks me over critically.

 

“I told you so.” I say, smirking.

 

He rolls his eyes.

 

“Did you see anyone?”

 

“Just the dead.” I whisper.

 

Peeta glances inside of the pack as I settle down next to a sleeping Rory.

 

“Try and get some sleep,” I say, pulling the gun from my waistband. “We leave at dawn.”

  


~~..~~

 

Mockingjays twitter in the leaves above us. I can hear their excited squawks and the ruffle of their feathers as they hop from branch to branch, trying to get a closer look at the intruders in their forest.

 

I jolt suddenly. Peeta is fast asleep and sometime in the night his head must have slouched down onto my shoulder because he falls sharply into the dirt as I fly forward, startling Rory.

 

“Katniss?”

 

I am already fumbling for a can of food.

 

“Up, get up,” I say. “We need to get moving.” Rory and Peeta are still groggily wiping their eyes but I am filled with a restless energy as I toss a can of cinnamon apples at him. He catches it with one hand, I toss a can of beans to Rory, who just stares at it.

 

I pick out a can of peaches.

 

We eat in silence.

 

~~..~~

 

“Where are we?”

 

“District two?” Peeta says, making a face.

 

“What does that face mean?” I sigh. “Are we in two or not? Which way do we go?”

 

“All the trees look the same!”

 

He’s right. They are all uniform, dark shade looming under the branches no matter the bright day. Rory looks at me with raised eyebrows.

 

“Katniss?” He says.

 

I push passed the both of them and start our journey forward.

 

“Katniss, you can’t just walk out into the woods.” Peeta snorts.

 

“Says the guy that has never been in the woods.” I say plainly.

 

“Lets just follow the road.” He say.

 

“It’s too open.” I counter.

 

“But it will lead us to a town. We could actually find out where we are.”

 

“Or get shot.”

 

“Katniss-” Rory hedges.

 

“No!” I snarl. “I know the forests. We’re safer here!”

 

“We’ll stick to the road, if anyone comes up the road we’ll hide in the woods.” Peeta says in a reasonable tone. I huff but in the end we start to tromp down the road silently. Rory kicking rocks. I try to pretend that I don’t notice Peeta watching me anxiously.

  


~~..~~

 

The world around us has gone quiet. A kingdom conquered. Even the Mockingjays have nothing left to say. I focus on watching my mud caked shoes as I walk. I ignore the ache in my feet, the dry burn behind my eyes and the blue eyes that flick to me apprehensively. Every muscle is tensed as I strain my ears for any sounds, but everything is peaceful. I wonder idly if we are the only people left in all of Panem?

 

“Katniss look,” Peeta says and I jolt backward, startled by the soft timbre of his voice. He stops me and points to the side of the road.

 

It takes me a moment to see her.

 

A fawn. Maybe the first of spring. She is snuggled in a swath of damp, yellowed grass. Well hidden from cold and slavering predators. Her big, brown eyes regard us warily from under long lashes. Her nose twitches as the wind shifts.

 

She would make for a good dinner. We could really use fresh meat. I step forward, pulling the knife from my belt.

 

“Katniss-” Peeta’s voice is soft but insistent. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. We aren’t in any position to be passing up an easy dinner, no matter how cute it is. It reminds me of Prim. How I always have to be the bad guy.

 

I open my mouth to  tell him as such but he steps forward, his shoes cracking the wavering grass and sending something sharp skittering down my spine. The fawn gets to her feet and I expect to watch my venison go streaking for the safety of the trees but she doesn’t, she just watches cautiously as Peeta approaches.

 

I can only watch, open mouthed and astounded as he walks right up to the fawn and reaches for her, whispering words I can barely hear. His large, calloused hand reaches out achingly slow and rubs the velvet fur between her ears.

  


~~..~~

 

_The moment I step into Arithmetic class I can feel his eyes following me as I look studiously at my feet and then at my desk. I focus on tracing the grain of the fake wood of the desktop to avoid looking up where I know his gaze is waiting._

 

_Coward. A little voice whispers in my head. I should just march right over there and spit out a Thank you. Its what he is waiting for. I can’t seem to make my feet move. My eyes do though, they flash up quickly and lock on his face, the horrible angry welt, a swollen shadow on his cheekbone. My mouth goes dry at the sight._

 

_My fault. I think._

 

_I might be crazy but I swear Peeta shakes his head in answer._

 

_~~..~~_

 

His hands run over the fawn. More quiet words that aren’t for me. I watch Peeta, hunched over the small animal and I feel the sudden tightness in my chest and I have to look away before I start to cry.

 

~~..~~

 

_I wait for Prim by the scrawny boughs of the oak tree in the school yard.  Kids swarm around me as they spill from the school and out into the spring sunlight. The first warm day seems to have brought them all alive and they chatter excitedly like squirrels._

 

_I catch sight of his curls, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight and my eyes fly to my boots. Peeta is alone, which is unusual. He walks slowly, head cocked to the side like he is… listening? He hasn’t noticed me staring. His eyes outshine the sky above as he scans the ground._

 

_For what?_

 

_I find myself stepping forward as he rounds around a tree, trying to get a better view of where he is. He shuffles through a pile of damp leaves and then stoops down, he cradles something to his chest and I crane my neck._

 

_His lips move feverently, pink and soft, like the petals of a flower. Suddenly there is a flutter of life in his arms as feathered wings flap against him. His arms release the bird and it flutters up toward the sky._

 

_A mockingjay._

 

_Suddenly his eyes snap to me and I feel myself going berry red as my eyes flit away. I watch the dappled sunlight waver at my feet._

 

_I notice it suddenly, so close to my boot I nearly trample it when I sway forward._

 

_It wobbles in the cool breeze. A happy-as-you-please yellow. I don’t pause to think I just reach down and pluck it from the grass._

 

_A dandelion._

 

_To most it is just a sturdy little weed or maybe a bright splotch of color in a normally gray world. I see it entirely differently._

 

_Food._

 

_Free food that grows in droves down in the little meadow near my house._

 

_I feel something hot flicker to life in my chest, gentle, like candlelight. How long had it been? This warm thing I hadn’t realized I had been missing, now alive inside of me I wonder how I had lived so long without it._

_I reach my hand up to my cheek, tightened and bunched as I smile brightly. My eyes flutter up to the sky and then to Peeta, who stands there, watching me with something approaching wonder._

 

_~~..~~_

 

The knife hangs limply from my hand.

 

“I’ve always heard the rumors he was different.” Rory whispers next to me. “That he could talk to animals.”

 

“Is that what you think he is doing?” I whisper.

 

“Do you think he feels what they feel too?”

 

I hadn’t considered that. That if I had sunk this blade into that creature he would feel its terror, the quick, sharp pain. Its energy returning to the earth and sky. Did he feel the bombs too? The children's terror as they darted for cover? Vick? Saliva fills my mouth thickly.

 

Peeta straightens slowly and turns, like I am the fawn. He looks straight into me. His shirt billowing softly in the breeze around him, his curls spilling into his face.  His eyes crinkle with something. Understanding? Or sympathy maybe? That doesn’t make sense because if anyone deserves sympathy it was Peeta. Not me, the hunter in the trees.

 

His hand reaches out for me. My feet itch to step toward him. I slink back instead, he smiles crookedly, like he knew the steps to my dance.

 

“We should keep going.” I say, my voice a low rasp. I ignore the way Peeta’s fingers curl back to his side.

 

~~..~~

 

We make camp in the forest, just out of sight of the road, near a crick. I build a small fire and boil water, filling the one canteen we have and dissolving a precious water tablet. Peeta stares into the glowing embers, not meeting my eyes.

 

Rory falls asleep almost immediately, his head lolling against the trunk of a tree.

 

I wring my hands uselessly, staring at the gun that sits at my side, black flecks of blood still dried to the butt.

 

“Peeta?”

 

His eyes shoot to me. I feel the bile rising to my throat. How could I ask a question I stand to have answered.

 

My eyes meet his in the half darkness.

 

_Is she still alive?_

 

The words I couldn’t dare speak out loud.

 

His eyes are dark and fathomless. I could stumble inside of them and tumble down forever. His eyes dart away and I am overcome by the feeling of being alone, not just lonely, but well and truly alone.

 

I watch the shadows flicker across his face as a muscle in his jaw ticks. His teeth grind together audibly.

 

“Peeta-”

 

He doesn’t say anything. Just stares.

 

“Peeta, please-”

 

It feels foreign to me , the way my voice cracks as I swallow down the dryness on my tongue.

 

“I don’t know.” He whispers to the flames.

 

“Was she-”

 

 _“_ I don’t know.”

 

My heart drops into my stomach at his tone, empty, miserable.

 

“Okay,” I whisper.

 

He gets up and disappears into the maze of pine trees. I don’t need to be able to read minds to know not to follow.

 

~~..~~

  
  


I wake in the shadow of morning. The blue light is just beginning to spill through the trees. I lay there for a long time, breathing in the crisp smell of pine and woodsmoke. My whole body aches from sleeping on the hard packed earth. I sit up slowly, wiping the sleep from my eyes. I glance over and Rory, still dead to the world, then I look around for Peeta. He hadn’t returned and at some point in the night I had fallen asleep, though I had tried to keep watch.

 

“Peeta?” My voice is dry and hoarse.

 

I listen for the crash of his footsteps but only silence follows.

 

“Peeta?”

 

I feel dread hit me like a wave. I stand slowly and limp toward the direction he left in. I peer into the thick forest and hollar his name again, louder and more insistent.

 

“Katniss!” I whirl and find him standing near the dying fire pit. His face is flush and his eyes bright. His skin has been washed clean of soot and blood and dirt. His curls damp and dripping onto his shirt. I control my urge to reach out and touch the soft, pale skin of his arm.

 

He flashes a grin at me.

 

“You should really see this.”

 

~~..~~

 

Rory and I tramp tiredly after Peeta, sore and grumpy as he leads us farther into the dense forest. Finally we spill out into a clearing of soft grass. Peeta walks ahead, slowing his steps patiently, even though I can tell he wants to go faster. He drags me to the edge of a shallow, rocky cliff, maybe eight feet tall, and I stare down at the green water glittering in the sun below. I suck in a deep breath at the sight of the water.

 

“Do you think its safe?” Rory asks.

 

My heart races as Peeta moves to stand next to me. My skin hums at his proximity. It is like I can feel the electricity that crackles just under his skin.

 

“I’m still walking around.” Peeta says with a crooked smile.

 

Rory and I share a excited look.  I shuck my shoes and then my blood soaked socks. I guess the blisters were worse than I thought. I wince at the sight of my raw skin. I set the gun and knife on top of the pack where Peeta stands.

 

“There is a place to walk down right over-”

 

I leap off the rocks like a wood duck.

 

For one long, blissful moment I am hanging, the air cradling me as I stare up at the sky and after a lifetime of walking ruined earth, it feels like a relief.

 

Then I am falling.

 

My stomach swoops violently.

 

I crash into the water. It is quiet under the skin of the water. So silent I can almost hear my heart slamming against my ribcage like a bird against a windowpane. I open my mouth and a bubble is ripped from my chest. I am sure for a moment that when I break the surface my father will be sitting on the rocky shoreline, waiting for me.

 

I surface gasping and my eyes dart to the shoreline. Then I remember. I am not home. My father and mother are both dead. Prim is gone. I have to find her.

 

My heart sinks to the silt at the bottom of the lake. I look up just in time to catch the smile sliding off of Peeta’s face. I wipe my wet hair away from my face and crawl out of the water, dripping and suddenly furious.

 

“Rory, come on!” I shout. We don’t have time to be swimming when our families lives hang in the balance, sore feet or not. I curse myself for just leaping from the ledge without thinking.

 

I drag Rory from the shallows up onto the rocky shore. He curses at me and I open my mouth to shout right back at him when I notice her.

 

A girl.

 

She is shadow-like and slight and oddly familiar. She stands at the edge of the pine trees. She is wearing the same tattered uniform the three of us are wearing, another escaped child. She cocks her head to the side, her expression perplexed as she presses her lips into a thin line.

 

Rory waves to her without thinking.

 

“Rory, don’t-” I hiss, smacking his arm.

 

“Look at her, she ain’t gonna hurt nobody.” He says.

 

The words have barely left his mouth when she raises her arm. Pointing a gun right at my head. My hand instinctively goes for my hip where I had the gun resting in my belt. Its gone of course. My eyes flit to Peeta but he is gone, the only things on the higher ground is open air and swaying grass.

 

“Don’t even think about running, brainless.” The girl snarls. “Get your hands up, both of you.” She shakes the gun in our direction and both of us do as we are told.

 

My muscles bunch and tighten. I feel coiled as a snake. The slightest motion will spring me into action. I turn to face the girl. Her large, brown eyes widen at me.

 

“Where is the puppy dog?” She snarls.

 

“What?” I breathe.

 

“Blondie?” She sneers. “Loverboy?”

 

Peeta. I swallow hard.

 

“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. For a moment betrayal begins to curdle my stomach. I think at this very moment I might hate him. Not for leaving but for making me think he was the kind of person that would stay.

 

How foolish I have been.

 

The girl smiles wickedly.

 

“Isn’t that a shame? They never are as loyal as we want them to be.” She bats her lashes at me and I suddenly remember from the crowd, on that first day, weeks ago. The girl talking to the bronze haired boy.

 

She isn’t alone.

 

A thunderous crash from the trees and the boy emerges from the forest, dragging Peeta behind him by the collar of his shirt.

 

“Well, well.” The boy says at me. I feel my stomach turn as he looks me up and down. “Look what the cat dragged in.” He winks at me. My lip curls in disgust.

 

The girl lowers her hand a fraction of an inch, my body sways forward before I really think about it. She is small, if I have the element of surprise I could knock her from her feet easily.  My toes curl as I shift my weight forward.

 

“Don’t even think about it.” She mutters. Looking at her friend.

 

“Did you have happy hunting, Finnick?” She says. Her eyes flitter from us to him. Finn straightens Peeta out and our eyes meet. I can only stare at him helplessly.

 

“I’m sorry.” He mouths.

 

 _Me too._ I think.

 

“What do you want with us?” Rory asks. I look over at him. He is so small compared to the other men here, yet he looks so much like his brother here, so strong and fierce it takes my breath away.

 

“Don’t worry yourself, youngling.” She says with a wooden smile. “Just keep quiet and you’ll leave with your limbs intact.”

 

Her eyes flit to me.

 

“What did you find?”

 

“Food, some bandages, a blanket, a knife-” Finnick says, his accent is so thick I can barely make out what he is saying. Is it district four? Ten? Not that it matters, they seem to be scavenging for whatever supplies that they can steal from the rest of us fleeing. I can’t let them have our food and more importantly, our weapons. “Some water tablets-”

 

I fly forward toward the girl, the rocks stabbing into my bare feet, pain lances up my leg. I fly forward as Peeta makes a dismayed sound from the back of his throat. I slam into her, my body knocking her down into the sand and stones.

 

“Fucking bitch!” She snarls. I grab her arms and pin her down, slamming her hand against the ground hard. Her fingers tighten against the gun as she tries to lift it. I swing my leg over her so I straddle her and then I shift my weight forward and bite down on the tender skin of her forearm, hard.

 

She lets out a hoarse cry and her fingers drop the gun to the ground. Rory must have scrambled for us because he snatches up the gun and points it at her.

 

“Well, fuck.” She says breathlessly. “Looks like you aren’t so brainless after all.”

 

Finnick and Peeta are grappling on the ground. Finnick has his arm around Peeta’s neck. He squeezes, his muscles rippling against his skin. I yank the gun from Rory and raise it to the sky and fire once.

 

They both go still.

 

“Looks like I spoke too soon.” The girl sighes, slamming her head against the ground. “You are asking for the whole district to show up here.” She snaps.

 

“Better run then.” I say, pointing the gun at Finn. “Let him go.” Finnick smiles like a cat who got the cream, but does as I ask, getting up as Peeta gasps and hacks for air.

 

“Get out of here.” I snarl at them both. “Don’t look back.”

 

The girl smiles wickedly.

 

“I’ll see you again brainless.” She promises.

 

They disappear into the trees. Peeta is still coughing as Rory and I scramble for our things, tossing cans back into our bag.

 

“We need to go.” I hate the way my voice shakes.

 

Peeta rolls up off his back.

 

Everything is gathered but I can’t seem to stop my hands from trembling, in fact, my entire being is quivering.

 

“I thought you left.” I blurt to Peeta.

 

“We have to go.” Rory whispers.

 

“You should have left.” I whisper.

  


~~..~~

  


Our feet inch over the rough dirt road.

 

We have yet to see any signs of a town anywhere nearby.

 

We stick mostly to ourselves. Sometimes I hear Rory sniffle quietly. I keep a tired eye out for our two friends but I don’t think they are following after us.

 

My mind races with possibilities. I think of my sister and any of the fates that might befall her. I imagine her laying dead somewhere like Vick, being left behind for the crows to pick at. I think of how cruel peacekeepers can be. I think of her alone and frightened, calling out for her sister, the only person she has left in this world.

 

“Katniss?”

 

I snap back to reality. Peeta is looking at me, patient, expecting. I must have stopped walking at some point because both Peeta and Rory are a good deal ahead of me. I try to move my legs but they feel like lead and there is something wrong with my chest, I can’t seem to get enough air. I open my mouth to try and speak but I make a keening noise from somewhere deep inside of me. I can’t seem to stop it.

 

“Hey- Hey, Katniss. It’s okay.” I shake my head, unable to speak.

 

It isn’t okay.

 

My sister is lost.

 

It was my one job it this world and I couldn’t even keep her safe.

 

Nasty voices whisper in my head, telling me any manner of horrible thing that may have happened to my sister. I hear a voice distantly, making an awful noise something between a scream and a howl. I think it might be the worst sound I have ever heard.

 

Peeta touches my shoulder.

 

Oh, it’s me. I’m making that noise.

 

I jolt away from him. Staring at him warily. He holds out his hands like he is showing me he means no harm.

 

“What?”

 

“I um, I just-” His hands loom before me. They look both strong and gentle and I wonder how that can be, delicate and deadly as a spider’s web. “Can I touch you?”

 

He is going to hurt me in a way I can’t anticipate.  The thought invades my senses as I stare down at his hands. I glance up through my lashes. He looks hurt and sorry. I hadn’t meant it in the way he took it. I nod weakly and he falters.

 

“It’s alright, Peeta.” I say.  He doesn’t speak he just toes his way toward me. His finger reach for my temple slowly. I watch them like they are a snake in the grass, watching for a danger I can’t predict. I can feel the electricity that pours out of him, as strong as the fence back home. Is he like that with everyone? I am entranced by his fingers, long and graceful as they tangle in my hair and brush against the aching skin at my temple.

 

It is like being underwater.

 

Everything goes still and silent and muted.

 

The monstrous voices are gone. Everything is quiet and I know intrinsically that only Peeta has this power. My eyes flutter shut in relief.

I am trapped between his palms. He could crush me if he wished. When my eyes open he is looking at me like he is the hopeless one.

 

“Better?” He asks, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. The movement startles me enough that I stumble back. His hands disappear and I miss their warmth, though I would never admit it.

 

“We should keep going.” I mumble, avoiding his question. Because it does feel better and he shouldn’t be able to do that. Not with my sister so far away.

 

~~..~~

 

_I force a slice of bread into my mother._

 

_She eats mechanically. Her mouth opening and shutting as she stares sightless out of the window at the dying rays of sunlight._

 

_“Graham?” She says._

 

_The word is so sudden I nearly drop the slice of bread. It has been weeks since my mother has spoken a word. Some small part of me rejoices and another more practical voice reminds me it isn’t permanent. She sometimes has sparks of life where she might say my father’s name or Prim’s but she hasn't said this name before. I follow her line of sight to the meadow across the street._

 

_A group of merchant boys are kicking around a ball in the grass._

 

_“Graham?” She says again, pressing her fingers to her mouth as she sits in her hard backed chair._

 

_“No, Mama.” I say._

 

_Her hand comes up to the windowpane. Right where Peeta stands, flushed and smiling, his curls dampened with sweat._

 

_I hide myself behind the curtain and watch him curiously._

 

_How does he bring people back like that?_

 

_Maybe he is different after all. I look down at my mother who is watching with bright, curious eyes. I brush her hair away from her face. Letting myself have one selfish moment where I crave her touch, a kiss to my forehead, any small motherly thing that I have missed since my papa died and she went so deep inside of herself I or even little Prim couldn’t bring her back._

 

_Somehow the bakers youngest son has managed to pull her out of her gauzy half sleep, some part of me deep inside skors at the thought. I add it to the list of debts I have to pay him back for._

 

_A debt I am hopeless to pay back._

 

_Just go say it. A voice whispers in my head._

 

_I throw open the door as I rehearse the two little words in my head. I step out into the muggy air and onto the aging slats of wood that serves as my porch and I freeze._

 

_He looks completely golden in the afternoon light. Standing there like he is waiting for me. The ball hits his legs and he flips it up onto the top of his foot, holding it there before tossing it up and bouncing it with his knee._

 

_Then his blue eyes land on me._

 

_I raise my eyebrows as he smiles at me. Something warm and genuine. I don’t think I have seen anything like it before in my life. He licks his lips and his mouth opens and I am sure he is going to call out to me. My entire body goes rigid with anticipation._

 

_The air raid siren goes off instead._

 

_~~..~~_

 

“Purple.”

 

“What?”

 

“Your favorite color is purple.” Peeta says with a smile.

 

So he is still on this.

 

“Don’t you already know?” I snort.

 

“It isn’t purple?” He says. I make a point of not looking at him. I am sure he is dirty and sweaty and his curls are sticking up in all directions and I refuse to smile at him.

 

“No,” I say. “Try again.”

 

I run to catch up with Rory.

 

“I’ll figure it out eventually!” He shouts after me. I turn around, swallowing my smile and roll my eyes at him.

 

“Have fun with that.” I say smugly.

“He likes you, you know.” Rory says.

 

“Who, Peeta?” I say.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How do you know that?” I ask.

 

He just shrugs his shoulders.

 

“Prim told me.” He whispers finally.

 

“What?” I stammer out. “When?” My feet stop moving and I have to run to catch up.

 

He shrugs his shoulders again, eyeing Peeta as he lumbers along behind us.

 

“A few months ago. Said he asked about you once.”

 

“What did he ask?”

 

“I dunno, ask her yourself.” He smirks as I vow to do just that, when we find her, of course. I ruffle his hair as he ducks away from me, grumbling about not being a little boy anymore.

 

“Do you think Gale is alive?” He asks me after a long beat of silence. I have to think on it. Gale isn’t one to go down without a fight. An ache swells in my chest as I look at Rory, nearly as tall as me. I sigh. “It’s okay, I can take it.” He says.

 

“I don’t know Ror.” I whisper. “But I do know this, wherever he is he is causing a whole lot of trouble.” I smile wryly at him and poke his side until he offers me a slice of a smile.

 

“If Prim is anywhere around, he’ll take care of her. You know that.” He says, his hand folding into mine.

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

And that is when Peeta stops us, pointing out the heaps of blackberries growing at the side of the road. We collect them by the handfuls and Peeta amuses us by juggling them and then catching them in his mouth until we clap.

 

We almost forget where we are and why and how we ended up here in the first place. It could almost be any other summers day back home.

 

But the truth always comes seeping back inside and it leaves its scar, like a watermark. But for a moment, in the fiery light of sunset Peeta makes me smile, a miracle in and of itself.

 

He opens his mouth to show me his tongue, stained purple. “Are you sure purple isn’t your favorite color?” He says again, chuckling to himself.

 

Maybe I am being stupid but I am exhausted and dirty and scared out of my wits. I could die at any moment. Every hill I crest I am sure will be the last. I am uncertain that I will ever see my sister again. I am uncertain about everything on this earth except one thing.

 

Peeta could have left me for dead today but he didn’t.

 

The smile slides off of my face as I inch closer to him.

 

He is still smiling, his eyes gleaming brightly. My fingers reach out and touch a smear of blood and dirt on his shirt. He is solid beneath the soft cotton.

 

“My favorite color is green.” I whisper.

 

The smile I get in return is nearly blinding.


End file.
